From the recording Ernest Troost Live At McCabe's

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The Last To Leave

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15. The Last to Leave

I keep my eyes open
I try to look both ways
And I try most days to keep my ear to the ground
But I never saw
This freight train comin’
I never heard its mournful sound

Well, this was a sweet ride
While it lasted
I guess I’ll get past it, I can only try
But since you have gone
On that Greyhound to Boston
I’m still kind of lost in the reasons why

My heart, my heart
It’s always the first to believe
My heart, my heart
It’s always the last to leave

If this love was a party
Well, everyone’s gone home
The stereo plays a lone melody
And I’m in the kitchen
I’m sortin’ through empties
Sortin’ through how empty can be


Well, time wore my edges down
And I met a girl from a northern town
And she said, we better take it slow and see
‘Cause she knows what you pay to play
And her heart’s made in a special way
Then she turned and whispered to me, she said